Curleth like to a loving arm
That reacheth up unto the sky.
The grain ears ope, to grin unto the day.
The stream hath laden with a pack o’ leaves
To bear unto the dell, where bloom
Doth hide in waiting for her pack.
The stars do glitter cold, and dance to warm them
There upon the sky’s blue carpet o’er the earth.
’Tis season’s parting.
Yea, and earth doth weep. The Winter cometh,